


I Don't Give Up That Easy

by SleepySappho



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Nonprofit, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Insecurity, Latina!Catra (She-Ra), Lesbian Sex, Mutual Pining, Not on the sex though, Slow Burn, Yearning, hatefucking, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepySappho/pseuds/SleepySappho
Summary: Except. Adora does swing that way. That extremely specific, Catra-centric way. It's pretty much the only way she's ever swung, as it were, all of her half-hearted relationship attempts since then slipping her through her fingers like sand until she simply stopped trying. There's nobody for her other than Catra, and she'd fucked up her only shot with her. She's come to accept that.Except.Catra was here, working in her best friend's office, leaning against the wall less than thirty feet away and—Oh.Oh, shit.And looking directly at her.Adora agrees to accompany her best friend to an office party and comes face-to-face with her ex not-quite-girlfriend for the first time in eight years. Neither of them are as ready to let go ofthisas they thought.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 228





	1. I Didn't Even See You Looking

**Author's Note:**

> Title changed from _I Can Live Without You (But Maybe I Don't Want To)_ because I decided to turn this from a one off smut thing into a 21-chapter slow burn monstrosity. Don't worry, there's still lots of smut and that part won't be slow burn at all

Adora does not belong at this party.

The moment she steps into the oversized conference-room-turned-event-venue she _knows,_ absolutely _knows_ that everyone can tell she shouldn't be here. She already felt horribly plain in her simple red dress next to Glimmer's dazzling outfit and _now—_

Everyone at this party is gorgeous and she _hates_ it. She had been imagining a bunch of well, _nerds,_ people who spent all their free time huddled in dusty, poorly-lit libraries reading about thinks like "restorative justice" and "legal precedent" not a room full of supermodels in designer clothing and at least two women who looked like they belonged on an Olympic weightlifting team.

Of course, Adora couldn't _ask_ Glimmer why the heck her mom's nonprofit was staffed with impossibly gorgeous women without acknowledging that she _noticed_ said women and starting a conversation she really didn't feel like having today. 

Glimmer must have noticed her tensing up, and gave her a friendly elbow to the side. "Come on, Adora, it's just an office party, it's no big deal."

Adora buries her face in her hands. "An office party with you know, your _mom,_ AKA the scariest boss in the world who is already on the verge of firing you and who will absolutely hold you accountable for anything embarrassing I do tonight? Glimmer, this is the _biggest_ deal. Like, cosmically big. Galactically big. Like, _I-could-get-my-best-friend-fired-and-ruin-her-life,_ big."

"Adoraaaa," Glimmer sighs. "Mom isn't gonna _fire_ me just because you ate too many canapés or whatever. It's a party! Relax! Try to enjoy yourself!" 

"Glimmer I don't even know what a canapé _is,_ " Adora groans. "Why couldn't Bow have come instead? He's great at this sort of thing." 

" _Because,"_ Glimmer says, "Bow is sick and can barely walk, let alone make conversation for several hours."

"We could have brought him in a wheelchair, or, or, maybe some kind of puppetry. I could have carried him in and then hid behind him all night so nobody noticed me!" Adora grabs Glimmer by the shoulders. "Glimmer it's not too late, I can sprint home and go get Bow right now, please say I can go get Bow right now—"

" _Adora!_ " Glimmer snaps, before pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose and take a deep breath. "We. Are. Not. Getting. Bow. You can _handle_ this. You promised me you'd be cool, remember?"

"Right. Cool. That's me, cool as a cucumber. Yessir. Just… reaaaall cooool." Adora shoots Glimmer a pair of hesitant finger guns. "I can do this." Glimmer gives her a reassuring smile.

That's when Adora sees _her,_ and realizes that she can definitely not, ever in a million years, do this.

Because she knows that woman in the crisp burgundy suit with the slicked back hair casually sipping a drink and looking like she is perfectly at home with all this absurd luxury. She knows the entire shape of her, the way her voice squeaks when she laughs, the location of every perfect freckle on her soft, dark skin, the way she smiles when she's admitting to having any kind of feelings at all, small and almost afraid, the taste of her mouth when she's been whimpering—

"What-" Adora starts, too quietly, before clearing her throat and deciding to play her cards a little closer to her chest. "Who is that?" 

"Who?" Glimmer asks before following Adora's eyeline across the room. "Oh her? That's Catra, she started working here a few months ago. She's our best trial lawyer, we're pretty lucky we got her to come over here before she could get snapped up by some corporate law office. And," Glimmer added in a conspiratorial tone, "her tongue is just as good _outside_ the courtroom if you know what I'm saying." 

Adora goes rigid with horror. "You don't— Glimmer— did you—"

Glimmer snorts. "God, I _wish._ She's just got a reputation for being some kind of lesbian sex god, and I know at least a couple of girls in the office who can confirm there's truth to that. Sadly, I'm not exactly her type, she's more into tall, athletic girls. Probably worked her way through half of the women's pro sports teams in the city by now." Glimmer gives Adora a quick, appraising once-over. "You'd probably have a chance with her though." 

Adora is _really_ glad she hasn't tried to grab any food yet, because she'd definitely be choking on it. _Catra?_ She thinks. _As in, my Catra? Freaks-out-if-anyone-so-much-as-hugs-her, Catra?_

Glitter mistakes the confused spluttering for embarrassment (and to be fair there's a non-zero amount of that as well, Adora can feel her cheeks burning). "Sorry, just teasing. I know you don't swing that way. Come on, let's go get you some food, I'm sure you'll feel better after that."

Except. Adora _does_ swing that way. That extremely specific, Catra-centric way. It's pretty much the only way she's ever swung, as it were, all of her half-hearted relationship attempts since then slipping her through her fingers like sand until she simply stopped trying. There's nobody for her other than Catra, and she'd fucked up her only shot with her. She's come to accept that.

Except.

Catra was _here,_ working in her best friend's office, leaning against the wall less than thirty feet away and—

Oh.

Oh, _shit._

And looking directly at her.

* * *

  
  


Adora does not belong at this party.

Of that, Catra is _certain._

Not just because Adora is a fucking ghost from her past who doesn't belong _anywhere_ in her life anymore, but because of the awkward, shy way she's holding herself like she's afraid someone is going to reveal her as a fraud and send her packing at any moment. Catra gets it, more or less, remembers the first time she got invited to a swanky party like this back in law school, how she felt like everyone could tell she was just orphaned, merit scholarship, small-town trash trying to sneak her way into the big leagues, the way people tossed back drinks that cost more money than she would have seen in a year growing up. It had made her skin crawl. She almost feels bad for the girl.

It is _incredibly_ satisfying to watch Adora squirm, though. 

_Who's the weak one now, Adora?_

Adora hasn't seen her yet, which means Catra still has time to affect disinterest, leaning on the wall and turning back to her conversation with DT.

"Eying up your next conquest, kitten? She's _definitely_ your type." Of course, DT noticed her staring. They notice _everything_ . It's what makes them such a damn good staff lawyer, and also what makes them, on occasion, _deeply_ infuriating to be around. 

Catra snorts derisively. It's almost convincing. "As if. I can do _much_ better than some pretentious blonde in a department store dress. I mean, look at her."

"Oh believe me kitten I am _looking._ Since when do you care about fancy clothes, anyway? What's _underneath_ is much more interesting."

_Since it was fucking_ Adora _wearing them._

"Whatever," Catra grumbles. "You go hit on her if you think she's so interesting." She pointedly ignores the twinge of jealousy in her stomach at the idea of Adora being subjected to Double Trouble of all people. 

"Hmm… normally I'd consider it but it looks like our blonde bombshell here has eyes only for you, kitten." DT smirks and unsubtly steals the olive from Catra's martini. 

Catra doesn't notice, because she's made the horrible mistake of looking back Adora's way and finding her still staring and _oh, shit_ that's definitely eye contact and _fuck_ were her eyes always that disgustingly blue?

_Yes,_ part of her whispers and Catra takes a moment to smother that thought to death before throwing back the rest of her drink and handing the empty glass off to Double Trouble.

"I think I'm gonna go look over next week's filings in my office. Don't come looking for me." DT raises a single microbladed eyebrow.

"We perfected those filings _days_ ago, darling. It's a party, ree- _lax._ " 

"Boring party anyway," she mutters before slipping out of the conference room and into the dark hallway.

  
  
  
  



	2. It Doesn't Matter What You Think of Me

Catra's eyes are the same colors that Adora remembers.

That's normal, right? It would be weird if they had somehow _changed_ colors in the last eight years, but there's absolutely nothing remarkable about someone having the same eyes that they did when they were eighteen.

So why is Adora's brain completely fixated on that fact? 

Maybe it's because of how much the rest of Catra has changed. Adora almost feels a twinge of sadness at the loss of Catra's long, unruly hair, the hair she so fondly—wait, no, _not_ fondly—remembers brushing into something resembling presentability. 

But she can't deny that Catra looks _good_ with short hair.

Catra looks good all over, if she's being honest: the suit she's wearing is definitely tailored for pleasure rather than business and she's wearing it with the top four buttons undone and her tie left untied around her neck. The whole look is just _screaming_ for someone (someone _other_ than Adora) to grab her by the loose ends of the tie and pull her in for a kiss, to scrape their nails down the valley between her breasts, to— _stop thinking about Catra having sex, you idiot._

Unfortunately Glimmer had gone and made her life infinitely harder in that regard by informing her of Catra's new _reputation._ For some reason, the thought of Catra seducing every woman she laid her eyes on and then dropping them like a rock when she'd had her fun made Adora's blood boil, because _who the fuck does she think she is?_ There's nothing wrong with having a high sex drive and a high number of casual partners, not that Adora would know anything about it, but even a one night stand is still entitled to a basic level of _respect._ It's disgusting, really, the way Catra is just _using_ these women.

_Glimmer sure made it sound like they didn't mind being used._

Glimmer, right. That's why Adora was here in the first place. She turns to find that her best friend has wandered off already and is busy making eyes at one of the inexplicably jacked women Adora noticed on the way in, the one with the stark white hair and the elegant black dress. Adora feels an unusual mix of annoyance and pride.

Against her better judgement Adora turns back to find Catra again and only manages a quick glance as she slips out the door, making an early exit.

Adora feels a righteous fury bubbling up in the pit of her stomach, her cheeks coloring. _Oh no. You don't get to just walk away from me. Not this time._

Her anger is enough to overcome her self-consciousness and she storms across the room to where Catra's tall, platinum blonde friend still holds her empty glass.

"Where did she go?" She demands of the stranger, who looks down at her curiously.

"My kitten decided to head over to her office to get a little bit of work done, darling. It's just down the hall, can't miss it." 

And that, the thought of this ridiculously tall (not even that much taller than her, really, just wearing _ridiculous_ platform boots), elegant stranger calling Catra " _my kitten_ " sparks a new wave of fury in Adora. She grits out a perfunctory "thank you" between her teeth and exits the conference room and storms down the darkened hallway, barging into the only room with light spilling out under the door to give Catra a dang—no, a _damn_ good talking to.

It's been a long time coming.

* * *

One of the many advantages of being a very well paid lawyer at a cash-flush nonprofit is the privilege of a private office and an _extremely_ comfortable chair. Right now, Catra is making full use of both, reclining and covering her face with her hands.

And it has _nothing_ to do with Adora.

How could it possibly? In her short but intense career, Catra had gone head to head with the absolute worst the legal world had to offer, ruthless, amoral, pricks with twenty years of experience on her and the kind of reputation that would make anybody want to just toss out a few perfunctory arguments and run. She'd argued in front of the Supreme Court, for fuck's sake, and never _once_ did she let it get to her. She didn't always win, that was just the nature of the beast, but Catra Romero Ortega _never_ lost her cool. 

So this? Scuttling away from a party to go nurse a worsening mood alone in her office? _Could not_ be because of some random ex not-even-girlfriend she hasn't seen in nearly a decade. 

And the spike in her heart rate when that same woman opens the door to her office and steps inside, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily?

Completely unrelated.

She decides to go for an early killing blow, adopts her best annoyed-and-confused glare, and asks "Who the hell are you?"

"Cut the cr— _shit_ , Catra, I already know you recognized me."

Well. That didn't go as well as she'd hoped. Didn't matter, though, Catra had plenty of ammunition left.

"Oh, you learned a new word, princess," she sneered, "better watch your mouth or your new friends might figure out you don't belong here." 

Adora winces. _Good._ Needling her obvious insecurity about being here was a good tactic.

"You're from the same place I am, Catra. If I don't belong here then neither do you."

Okay, maybe not such a good tactic. Since when could Adora give as good as she got? "I _worked_ my way here, princess, in case you didn't notice. Maybe it's difficult for you to understand but some of us have a job here other than banging the boss's daughter." 

That should have got Adora spluttering, doing that cute—not cute, _pathetic_ — flustered act she always pulled whenever someone brought up sex around her. 

Much to Catra's chagrin, it only seems to make her angrier, and while there are a few blessed moments where her mouth opens and closes silently, she's either not flustered at all by the topic or already too embarrassed to care.

"I'd be better than you, at least I'd be sticking to one person. And for the record, I'm here as Glimmer's _friend,_ because she asked me for a favor, not because I'm trying to infiltrate your, your, your fucking rich people party or whatever. I didn't even want to come here!" 

"Oh, so you're slut-shaming me now? Jesus, Adora, don't take out your sexual frustration on me just because I'm getting more pussy than you." 

"I'm not slut-shaming you, I wouldn't care how many women you sleep with if you actually treated them like _people_ instead of just a way to get off." 

_That_ makes Catra lose her fucking cool.

"Oh that is fucking _priceless_ coming from _you,_ Adora, or did you just conveniently _forget_ what you did to me?" She shouts, rising to her feet and just about ready to try and claw this woman's eyes out.

Except.

Adora doesn't shout back. She doesn't even respond, at first, just shrinks back and looks at the floor like Catra just hit her, like she did when Weaver used to—

_Not the same thing at all, dumbass. She is_ not _the victim here._

Catra decides to hold back, let that one sink in for a little while. She counts the seconds, trying to steady her breathing and get a hold of the trembling in her clenched fists. 

It's seven before Adora looks back up and the look on her face just pisses Catra off even more because she was kind of enjoying shouting with Adora, at least until that last part, and now she just looks _hurt._ It's pathetic.

"Is that… do you…" Catra doesn't interrupt, lets Adora take a breath and try to finish her dumb sentence. "Is that really what it felt like to you? God, Catra, I'm _sorry_ I never intended to hurt you, I just—"

Okay this is officially _way_ worse than fighting. She is not about to let _Adora fucking Grey_ try and fucking apologize to her, not after eight fucking years.

"Whatever. I don't care, Adora. It was a long fucking time ago." Catra sits back down, heavily, feeling hollow without the all-consuming rage she'd just been channeling. "Why did you even come here?"

"I- I told you," Adora says, hands trying to fiddle with the drawstring of the hoodie she for once isn't wearing and settling for clasping each other awkwardly. "Glimmer asked me to."

Catra snorts. "Not the party, dumbass. Why are you _here._ In my office. Where I am. The person who hates you. Remember?" 

Adora looks away again and, much more interestingly, _blushes._ Her angry flush had faded over the past few minutes and was now replaced with something Catra was rather curious about. "I- I'm not exactly sure. Sorry."

Seeing Adora like this, nervous and uncertain with her cheeks dusted pink, gives Catra an idea. It's not like she'd missed the way Adora's gaze dragged over the skin she was showing off with her shirt half undone like this, she just didn't think it would end up being particularly relevant. Now, though…

_So you're pissed off about how I "use" people, huh? I'll show you what it feels like to be used._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I said they were gonna bang this chapter but this fight went on for a lot longer than I anticipated. Don't worry, the Good Shit you're all here for is on the way.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter @SleepySaph but I can't in good conscience imply that would be a good idea


End file.
